The twelve guys sat around drinking beer and mixed drinks while looking at my naked son Timmy who was to be the star of the pain endurance contest. His smooth, pale, young body trembled in the room filled with fully dressed guys. They made offensive comments about his ass and balls and dick and tits. I knew it was all in good-natured fun. Timmy wants to be a pilot when he grows up, but I told him again and again that I think he should go into the porno modeling business instead. There's real money in it, and Timmy's body is his best attribute. He is one gorgeous, fucking cute kid if I do say so myself.
Every time I fuck my son, I am reminded of how lucky I am to have such a cute, little ass-cunt. Not that my eighteen-year-old boy isn't handsome, but he's getting too old for my taste. I like younger ass. When your dick goes into a young ass, you can feel your prick churning up the boy's guts a bit. I like that.
When a kid reaches eighteen and has been fucked ten to fifteen times a week for ten years, it just doesn't hurt him anymore, and that's no fun, now is it? I mean what good is a fuck if the fuckee doesn't feel anything? Shit, you could drive a Mack truck up the ass of my eighteen-year-old.
Well, he has been double fisted so often that he needs to wear diapers full time now. I told him that would get the laughs when he is finally allowed to date girls. I said to him to will be a real test of love to see if a girl will accept a boy who uncontrollably shits in his diaper cause his ass has been reamed out daily for ten years.
And today was my fourteen-year-old son's first pain endurance party. We have these often with our boys, a bunch of us gather at someone's house and we see how much pain one of our kids can take. It is sexually oriented of course and ends with all the guys present fucking the abused kid.
I feel kind of bad that I waited so long with Timmy. I should have had him at one of these when he was ten or eleven, but I was so busy trying to control his older brother, I just didn't have time. Oh, don't get me wrong, we did occasionally play very rough with Timmy. I mean, I didn't neglect him. He wore nipple clamps weekly from the time he was eight, and his titties stick out like those of a budding cuntlet. He's had ball weights on him for an hour every day since his nuts fell. I am determined that he will have very low hangers, and he has got a good start already at fourteen. But he hasn't performed technically in a pain party for my buddies. So now he sat there naked in the middle of the circle of men.
"Fuck, she is one lovely cunt!" One of my pals said, who loves to call boys by girl’s names.
"Spread your legs more Timmy, for the nice gentlemen," I barked, and my boy spread his slender, boyish legs to show his dick and balls and even some of his pink asshole. "Well let's get started."
Jack, one of my buddies, threw a yellow number two pencil into the circle of men, it landed next to Timmy." Here you go, twat mouth, shove that pencil up your piss hole. And I mean way up!"
Timmy looked at me with a pleading expression. He had been warned that he had better make me proud of him. I nodded my head. He looked like he was going to cry, but he picked up the long, sharpened pencil. Now I know that we don't quite play safe at our parties and shoving a sharpened lead pencil up your piss hole may not be medically sound, but who gives a fuck? We are out for a good time. I hate sissy boys who are afraid to try anything the least bit risky. Timmy placed the tip of the pencil at his piss lips. His dick looked rather small now, even though he had frigged it up to a nice hardon for my pals. He opened his piss hole and shoved the pencil tip in. He closed his eyes in pain and made a hissing sound.
"Yeah," One of my pals shouted and grabbed his dick lump.
"Way to go, Timmy," another guy said.
I was proud of my boy.
"Shove it up there, Cuntboy, don't go easy now, shove it fast and hard."
"You heard the man, Timmy," I said.
Timmy trembled and chewed his cute lip and then shoved the pencil up his dick. He fell back on the floor, rolling in pain, the pencil end sticking out of his prick hole. His little body quivered like a plucked violin string. He lay there moaning and giving us all dripping hardons.
"Please...please can I take it out now? he whispered with a thick, pain-filled breath.
"Naw, leave it up there."
Somebody threw a box of large safety pins onto the floor.
"Here, put fifteen of these through your ball bag."
Some guys had their dicks out and were jerking on them to beat the band.
My son was doing well. He sat up, tears running down his face. He looked dazed. One hand reached for the box of large safety pins. The dick with the pencil up it trembled and throbbed. A bit of blood came out the piss hole. I squeezed my cock looking at it.
Slowly, like a boy in a dream state, Timmy began to stick the safety pins into his nut sack. Each pin had to pierce the soft, ballbag flesh twice. And then he was required to clasp the pin closed. When he passed out, one of my buddies stood up and pissed on his face to revive him.
"No more passing out Tim or you'll make me really angry." I admonished.
Eventually, the fourteen-year-old boy's ball bag looked like a silver-studded jock pouch.
"Put a couple of safety pins through each nipple too," someone suggested.
Little Timmy could hardly move he was in such pain. He was chewing his lower lip so hard it bled, which was okay as it would be fun to fuck his face that way.
"Come on, Timmy, decorate those nipples for us. Make sure one pin goes right through the nub itself."
It’s easy to hurt a helpless boy, but to require the boy to hurt himself is a supreme pleasure. His hesitant moves, his fear the moment before he inflicts the pain, these are true dick spurting experiences.
"Now stand up, Timmy," Pete, another buddy of mine said.
We all jerked our pricks watching the boy struggle to his feet in agony. His pale, naked body was sleek with sweat. His pierced ball bag caught the light. The dick was hard and stiff with the eraser of the yellow pencil sticking out and just a drop or two of blood. His pierced nipples looked red and raw. He stood there, head hanging, looking at the floor.
"Lift your head, Timmy, smile for my friends."
Timmy slowly lifted his head like it weighed a ton and managed a smile. He was so fucking cute.
Another pal of mine opened a box and dumped a huge load of thumbtacks all over the floor.
"Now, Timmy, do a nice dance for us on the thumb tacks."
I put on some of the boy's favorite music. I love watching teenage boys dance. They suddenly develop a grace they don't show other places. They are usually awkward at that age and falling all over their large feet, but when they dance, suddenly they develop a style.
Timmy squeezed some tears out of his eyes and looked down at the sharp tacks on the floor. He sucked his bleeding lower lip. Then he took one hesitant step onto the silver tacks, which caught the light like diamonds. We all knew that soon the boy's large naked teenage feet would be bloody and crippled with pain.
How much could Timmy take?
He danced on the tacks, screaming in pain, which oddly enough seemed to fit the music. Some of the tacks stuck in the heels and balls of his feet. I threw him a rubber butt plug to chew on so he wouldn't bite off his tongue. We called for him to dance faster, harder, to lift his feet more, to wiggle his cute ass more. Once he fell and when he stood up, we saw thumbtacks stuck into his ass globes; it was hysterical. Timmy must have had ten or fifteen thumb tacks in his ass mounds and twenty in the sole of each foot. He looked mindless with pain.
One guy threw him a cigarette lighter.
"Here, Twat, keep dancing but burn off all your prick hair while you do."
Timmy knew he would also be burning his stomach and dick and balls, but he had no choice. That was when he fainted for the second time. He fell right down on top of the thumbtacks, hundreds of them piercing his smooth young body. That was also when I blew my load for the first time that night. I was so fucking proud of my son.